Difficult
by Astrid Goes For A Spin
Summary: It's difficult to believe that this sun-browned, muscular teenage boy is HICCUP. It's difficult to believe that Hiccup even lived. It's difficult to understand why she cares. Astrid has found herself at the Dragons' Nest, and a boy who should have been dead saves her life. AU, and a story for Tasermon's Partner.


**Back again, so soon? Yep, pretty surprising to me, too. I've recently discovered that sometimes, I actually should use the "Remove" button in the Doc Manager. **

**1 - this is a story written for Tasermon's Partner - found here : u/818073/Tasermon-s-Partner , but in much more glory, here: Sticks_and_Stones/profile/3880776/ . He wrote for me, as I'm sure you all know - if you don't, you should - a oneshot in which I gave him only one line to work with: **

_"At school he's Hiccup Haddock, Snotlout's wimpy cousin and the mayor's disapointment of a son. But in his fantasy world, he's Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Heir and Hope for the Hooligan Tribe, and best friends with the dragon no one's ever seen."_

**And he preformed admirably. Beautifully. Read it. s/9701680/1/The-Neverending-Story **

**In return, I whipped these up and then forgot I had them. Tasermon and I discussed several awesomesauce ideas, and I picked out this one: where runs are shipped out to sea, and Hiccup is sent a little late. Late enough to have learned to take care of himself a bit, and, well, he lands on an island.**

**Not Outcast Island, though. You know me too well for that. **

**Here, Hiccup and Astrid are about thirteen, a little early for the movie. Hiccup washed up on the dragons' nesting ground (or nest, whichever suits your headcanon) and ended up, in essence, well...baby Night Fury hatches, and the rest is history.**

**[Yes, I am perfectly aware of the huge plot holes. Astrid has no plan, Hiccup has no life, and what's going on with Toothless, anyway? Still hope it goes over well enough.]**

**But we discussed this again recently, and it's come to my attention that DreamWorks is attempting to steal his genius. So here goes.**

* * *

Astrid can barely hear the sounds of the dragons' feeding frenzy over the beating of her own terrified heart.

Earlier that night, during the dragon raid, determined to find out where they go, find the Nest's location, she climbed into a barrel reeking of fish.

Her plan worked. A Nadder, unaware of its load of thirteen-year-old girl, grabbed her hiding place with its long, hooked claws, and took off with her.

Flying feels a bit like sailing, but Astrid prefers the latter.

There was a short flight. Astrid counted the seconds; forty minutes. She wonders if the raid is still going on - unlikely - or if her parents have noticed her missing yet.

She is going to get in so much trouble.

Unless, of course, she finds the Nest and makes it back alive.

Which she will.

Astrid starts dragon training next summer and is already the best in her age group at weapons.

There was no room for her axe in the barrel, but she's not bad at fighting barefist either, although she definitely can't hold her own against a dragon.

She's stronger and smarter. She won't have to.

Her Nadder ride goes through something narrow, and Astrid, straining to listen, can hear the noises of uncountable numbers of dragons flying on either side. Above, below, in front and behind.

For the first time, a little bit of terror shoots through her.

And then the heat hits her. It's smelly and sudden, and the closest thing she can think that it reminds her of is Gobber's; but this is different. It's oppressive and hotter than any fire she's ever been near.

This is the Nest, she's sure of it. This heat could only come from so many dragons roosting together, all in one place.

Sweat trickles down her temple, sticking her choppy bangs to her chin. Impatiently, she blows and spits at them, careful not to make a sound.

And then, abruptly, she's FALLING.

Astrid barely has time to cry out in surprise before it occurs to her that she'll die or be seriously hurt on impact. She explodes out of the top of the barrel and kicks out of it, flailing, expecting to see land and roll.

But land is nowhere near her. Something primeval cringes deep down inside her, and before she can stop herself, Astrid glances down, and for at least two whole seconds her heart shudders to a stop.

A thing, a humongous, unthinkably large THING lunges up from the depths of a luminescent hole. It's a dragon, it has to be, large enough to swallow a longship whole, or at the very least, bite it in half.

And she's dropping straight for its open maw.

Maybe she can catch on a tooth or something, but there's almost no hope -

Something black, something impossibly fast, something shrieking zips over her, and even in the midst of her terror she realizes she knows that sound.

Night Fury.

And then something grabs her by the arm and she's flying at least three times as fast as before, being hustled at lightspeed out of the nest and into the open air.

The flight is terrifying as before, and Astrid can't really wrap her mind around the fact that a Night Fury just SAVED her. But it is brief.

Astrid's ankle twinges as she's dropped roughly to rocky ground and she falls onto all fours, panting.

Finally when she gathers the gumption to look up, she's greeted by a huge black dragon-face sniffing her.

Astrid stiffens and leans back a little, and to her surprise, a hand inches into view along its neck, calming it visibly.

And then there's a boy.

There's something about him that feels familiar, but she's absolutely sure she's never seen him before. He has sun-tanned skin and is not dressed; blushingly, she tries to avoid looking at his crotch.

He's about the same age as her, too, with light, inquisitive green eyes and brownish hair with lots of gold streaks.

"What do you think you're doing?" she barks, staring at the boy with his hand on the dragon. She's so confused and suddenly enraged at humans TOUCHING them like that that she barely even cares about the Night Fury.

The boy looks at her and tilts his head, and she notices that his hair, while acceptably short, is frayed and singed at the ends.

"Who are you?" she snaps, gathering strength, and standing on a wobbly ankle. The boy reaches toward her timidly, and she takes a step back. "What are you doing? What's your name? What tribe are you from? Were you RIDING that?"

The boy doesn't answer any of this; and it crosses Astrid's mind fleetingly that he might not know how to speak.

"Can't you talk?"

Maybe he can't even understand her. Or maybe he's just not from around here. Maybe he's an invader, speaking filthy English, or, gods forbid, Latin.

She waits for him to say something in his language, but he doesn't. He exchanges a puzzled look with the dragon, then reaches out to her again. This time, she lets him.

He touches her shoulder, her nålebound, stretchy blue blouse, with a look of wonder, stares into her eyes, at her sweat-matted thick blond braid.

Suddenly, he says something. His voice is familiar, sweet and a little nasal, but his way of speaking is so foreign that she doesn't catch it the first time around.

"What?"

She can see him struggling to speak, his throat moving strangely, and then he croaks out, "Astrid?"

"What!" she shrieks, and the Night Fury bares its teeth at her. She'd throttle him now if she weren't afraid of getting blasted. "How do you know my name?"

The boy stares at her, really stares at her, and Astrid is dredging through her memory, trying to find something that connects to this boy.

And suddenly she does. Another boy, young and small and fragile, with brown hair streaked with red and gold, with light, curious green eyes, with thin arms and legs and contagious clumsiness, with a well-meaning sarcasm.

Who had been put to sea seven years ago. Astrid remembers the shock and horror of his sudden non-presence, the day after Snoggletog, when Stoick had finally consented and sent his runt away.

In those seven years, Stoick had become hard and harsh and the fanaticism to find the Nest was stronger than ever. It sweeps over Astrid dizzily - she found the nest - but the magnamity of that statement is usurped by something even bigger.

"Hiccup?"

.

She looks different now, Hiccup thinks as he shows Astrid to the cave he shares with Toothless. She's taller, obviously, and her hair is long and thick. She's still thin and athletic, but she's wirier than she used to be; there are lines in her face there weren't before. Hard times have come to her, or Berk.

It feels strange to hear human tongue again; he's so used to movements and noises and smells. He finds that he actually can remember much of Norse; he talks to himself in his head all day and with Toothless when he's away from the other dragons. Stormfly and Hookfang would laugh or get angry if they heard him talking like a human.

Because that's what he is, he reminds himself. As much as he doesn't want to be.

But suddenly, with the suspicious, shrinking company of Astrid, Hiccup is remembering all sorts of good things from when he lived as a human. Early mornings in the forge with Gobber, sweating and working in companiable silence. His father squatting on the edge of their fire pit, teaching him to light it (not that he needs that now). Playing Bashyball with the other kids. Picking a flower for Astrid.

But the humans had their worries: food and dragons and themselves. The dragons, of course, did as well, but their worries were easily dealt with. Food was hunted for easily; water was flown to; the big dragon was cared for. As long as you brought her enough food and got out quick enough (NOT a problem with a Night Fury), you had nothing to worry about.

And Hiccup liked this lifestyle. With Toothless, he doesn't need human companionship, but an ache rushes over him as he realizes - remembers - Berk and how it must have gone on and changed without him.

.

It's difficult to believe that this sun-browned, muscular teenage boy is HICCUP. It's difficult to believe that Hiccup even lived. It's difficult to understand how he communicates with the dragons, with pops and whistles he makes with his teeth, growls and barks.

It's difficult to understand why she cares.


End file.
